


A helping hand

by WorksInAllWeathers



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Friend in Need, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorksInAllWeathers/pseuds/WorksInAllWeathers
Summary: Of course it’s Eric’s fault. Dele knows it is. He totally jinxed it and he’s the only one to blame for the fact that Dele took a tumble and in order to protect his hurt hand managed to fall in a weird angle and sprain the other one. Now he stands in the hotel bathroom with two bandaged hands and a 'situation'...





	A helping hand

Eric watches Dele not so silently grump about being helped to get dressed; his bandaged, sprained wrist held out from his body to not get in his poor helper’s way. Normally, at least one teammate would take the piss but they all seem to realise this is not the time and then Dele’s thunderous expression finally explodes as the staff-guy tries to straighten out the middle of Dele’s attire.

“Leave it!” Dele snaps even though he must know he won’t be allowed on the pitch looking like someone tried to get him undressed in a hurry, the shorts askew across his hips and underwear clearly visible underneath the rucked up jersey. Eric decides to step in when the staff-guy looks at Dele with near panic in his eyes. Eric waves him away.

“I’ll sort it” he says and the guy gratefully flees. Dele turns his murderous stare to Eric but it softens.

“Judas” he mutters but throws Eric a weak smile. “I hate being this helpless”

“I know” Eric gives him and starts to straighten out what’s left of Dele’s clothes. He feels Dele’s stomach muscles jump when his knuckles brush over them to fix his shorts. Dele turns his face away and Eric swears he sees a faint coloring to Dele’s cheeks. He pulls Dele’s jersey down and pats him on the chest.

“All set” he says and it’s just in time for them to file out into the tunnel. “Don’t fall on your other hand” he whispers to Dele right before he takes his place in the line.

 

Of course it’s Eric’s fault. Dele knows it is. He totally jinxed it and he’s the only one to blame for the fact that Dele took a tumble and in order to protect his hurt hand managed to fall in a weird angle and sprain the other one. Now he stands in the hotel bathroom with two bandaged hands and a _situation_. On the other side of the door is said traitor, happily watching TV and oblivious to Dele’s predicament. Dele glares at his hard dick like it’s just as much of a traitor as Eric is and groans loudly. Apparently loud enough for Eric to appear on the other side of the door.

“Dele? Are you okay? Do you need help with anything?”

Dele looks at his dick and rolls his eyes.

“What? Are you offering me a sponge bath?” he snorts sarcastically but his dick takes it seriously and twitches out a drop of precum.

“For fuck’s sake” Dele hisses under his breath and another groan escapes unbidden.

“You don’t sound alright” Eric insists. “I’m coming in”

Dele doesn’t have time to protest as Eric pushes the door open and he has even less time to cover himself. Eric turns a bright shade of red, even the tips of his ears blush, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Dele’s dick.

“Oh” is all he says and Dele rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. Oh, indeed. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that with not one but _two_ useless hands?”

Eric squirms and rubs the back of his neck (eyes glued way beyond Dele’s waist and Dele can feel his fucking dick fucking twitch again. Fucker)

“Can’t you just, you know, wait it out?”

Dele glares at him.

“I tried that, it doesn’t work!”

“I could help you?” Eric says and they both go dead silent. The only sound that can be heard is the faint noise from the TV and a faucet dripping.

_“What?!”_ Dele thinks.

“What?!” Dele says and he can practically _see_ Eric back paddling.

“I mean- I could provide you with horrible mental images, you know-“

“That’s not what you meant though…” Dele interrupts and Eric deflates.

“No. But we’re mates, yeah? Lending you a helping hand wouldn’t be that much of a deal, right?”

It’s just that they both know it would be. It would be a Big Deal. Dele chews his lip, mulling it over but the throbbing between his legs doesn’t exactly help him think straight. Eventually he nods.

“Okay. Get over here with your ‘helping hand’”

 

Eric fees like he might trip over his own feet as he shuffles over to Dele and they awkwardly try to figure out a position that works. Eric can also feel his face burning as he touches Dele’s naked skin, the sharp intake of breath making his own dick harden. This shit is a recipe for disaster but Eric still finally finds a position that works. Standing behind Dele and with his forehead resting between his shoulder blades he can feel each shuddering breath Dele takes even before Eric slides his trembling hand around his waist.

“This is so weird” he mumbles into Dele’s skin before he pushes his hand down the final inch to take Dele in his hand. Dele goes rigid against him and Eric thinks he’s stopped breathing and does the only thing he can think of to soothe him. He steps closer, pushes himself against Dele’s back and kisses the back of Dele’s neck.

“Relax” he breathes into the soft skin but Dele does anything but. He whines and undulates and pushes his dick into Eric’s hand. Eric closes his eyes as he breathes Dele in and tries to focus on the task at hand but it’s difficult when it’s not your own dick and you can’t see what you’re doing.

“Let me try something” he says and Dele shivers in his arms as Eric turns them towards the mirror that covers most of the wall. Dele’s breath hitches at the sight of the two of them and Eric peers over his shoulder to get a better look. And what a sight it is! Eric’s got one hand splayed over Dele’s chest and the other wrapped around his dick and Eric can’t help but push himself closer and line himself up against Dele’s backside. Dele’s widened eyes are almost comical until he moans and pushes back; the dick in Eric’s hand sliding smoother from the additional precum.

“Fuck, Dele” Eric moans, surprised by his own huskiness and Dele nods.

“Yeah, right? Why haven’t you offered me a helping hand before?” he snarks but the way he moves in Eric’s arms take away some of the bite. Eric tugs him harder to reprimand him but as far as reprimands go it isn’t very effective… It takes just a few more tugs and then Dele looks surprised at his own lack of stamina as he comes all over the mirror, his own chest and Eric’s hand. Eric watches the cum run over his hand and whines. Dele feels all warm and soft and pliable in his arms and before Eric can stop himself he finds himself lifting his hand up to suck the fingers clean, the taste of Dele’s cum bursting across his tongue.

“Fuck” he breathes and if Dele’s eyes were wide before it’s nothing to how they look now.

“You kinky fucker” Dele smiles and his hand scramble to get Eric’s pants down and line him up between his cheeks. It’s almost too hot and the way it looks like the real deal in the mirror as Eric grinds himself against Dele’s ass makes him grunt loud enough to worry about the neighboring rooms. He slides his dick between Dele’s cheeks and when the head catches on the rim, Dele freezes and moans and Eric comes on another upstroke all over Dele’s back. He comes so hard he thinks he might pass out but then he would’ve missed how beautiful his cum looks as it glides back down between Dele’s cheeks.

“Fuck” Eric breathes and looks up in the mirror where Dele looks a confusing mixture of a deer-in-headlights and fucked-out-but-kinda-horny-again. Eric kisses the top of his spine and Dele sighs.

“You have to sprain your wrists more if this is what we get out of it” Eric jokes and gets an elbow to his stomach. Dele turns around with a smirk.

“Imagine what I could do _without_ sprained wrists instead…”


End file.
